


Between Green and Gray

by Luz



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Blue Sargent will not take your shit, Business Showers, Corporate Angst, Crack, F/M, General Angst, Homophobia, I am so sorry for this, M/M, Mario Kart, Noncanonical Dimple, Poor Gansey, Poor Life Choices, Poor Ronan, Recreational Drug Use, Rich Adam, Rich Blue, Ronan behaving badly, Ronan loves playing Sims, Scary Movies, Stoner Everyone, Stoner Noah, butchery, don't worry kavinsky is a walking joke in this fic, extremely au, heh, ronan and gansey are so close they have to inform everyone they aren't banging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6911119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luz/pseuds/Luz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which the raven kids are now raven young adults, Glendower and Henrietta don't exist, and Gansey doesn't have a trust fund (but Adam does.) Ronan Lynch works at the meat counter at the local supermarket and shares a house with Richard Gansey, a harebrained inventor and entrepreneur. We join this dysfunctional pair as Gansey becomes enamored with young urban professional Blue Sargent and Ronan with successful grad student Adam Parrish. Their sleepy drug dealer Noah Czerny observes. [tl;dr this fic is really dumb but u might laugh]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i was sorry for this as soon as i started writing it to be quite honest

Ronan Lynch woke up, as he did most mornings, to incessant meowing.

“Fuck off,” he growled. He threw a pair of shorts at the cat, but she was used to his attempts to ward her off and dodged them easily. She hopped onto the bed beside his face and placed a black paw on his cheek.

“Christ....bother Gansey for once,” he muttered, but he sat up to rub his eyes. It was almost eleven anyway. He had a double shift that day at Pak N Save he'd been dreading all week.

Ronan slouched into the living room, still rubbing his face. His roommate was asleep on the floor, folded up with his head resting on one of his arms. There were hundreds of toothpicks spread on the carpet around him, some arranged painstakingly in patterns and others stuck together. A hot glue gun sat on the floor too, and Ronan was relieved to notice it had been unplugged before its operator had fallen asleep.

He threw open the curtains at the front of the house and a ray of sun fell directly onto Gansey’s sleeping face. His eyebrows drew together before his eyes opened, and then he squinted up at Ronan. “Hey, man...” he croaked. There was a wispy filament of dried hot glue stuck in his eyebrow.

Ronan shrugged. “Chainsaw woke me up. I’m paying it forward.” He shook some food into her dish and the black cat stopped winding around his legs to eat. “Greedy little bastard. Why are you on the floor?”

Gansey grimaced and shook out his arm, which had lost circulation with his head on top of it. He wore a bathrobe and apparently nothing else. “Couldn’t sleep.” He got up and ambled into the kitchen, depressing the button on the hot water kettle. Ronan halfheartedly rinsed a couple of mugs and set them on the counter. One of them had Snoopy on it and said _Live for today_. The second was emblazoned with a faded Irish flag and simply read _GENUINE_.

Gansey, after replacing his bathrobe with real clothing, retrieving the newspaper from the front porch (they were the only people their age Ronan knew on the paper route,) and sitting down at the table with his glasses and his Snoopy mug, could pass for a normal adult.

“Toothpicks?” Ronan asked offhandedly, gazing at the mess on the floor. To be fair, it wasn’t so much a singular mess as a branch of the catastrophe that was the entire living room. A crumbling medical skeleton, several traffic cones, and, most recently, twenty multicolored pool noodles stood against the walls. Scattered across the floor were whatever old magazines and samples of fabric that Gansey had gleaned from the thrift store that particular week. In the corner sat Ronan’s tall speakers, which were currently housing teetering stacks of plates. (One of the cabinets had been taken over by Gansey’s ice cube tray project, necessitating the migration of all of their plates.) 

Gansey blinked. “Ah. Not toothpicks - linguistically versatile textual units. You want to learn the Cyrillic alphabet? Zhuyin? Urdu? Do it all at once.”

Ronan decided not to question the word salad that his roommate had just emitted. Gansey returned to the newspaper, and sipped his mint tea.

“Oh, I’ve got a good feeling about it, Ronan,” he muttered. Though he’d used his name, Ronan had the feeling he was speaking mostly to himself. “Could be the next AskDick.com.”

Ronan scoffed, mostly to himself. AskDick.com was the only business venture of Gansey’s that had developed into something resembling success. He still wasn’t exactly sure what good or service the website provided beyond that it had something to do with the endless piles of square white boxes and spools of twine that filled Gansey’s room. He’d tried visiting the site itself once, and his ancient laptop had promptly crashed. He did know that it provided just enough income that Gansey didn’t need a real job to pay off the student debt he had incurred earning his European History degree.

Ronan went to the massive pockmarked whiteboard that leaned against one wall. It was covered in half legible scribbling, diagrams, cartoon penises, and, pinned in one corner, Ronan’s work schedule. He narrowed his eyes at it spitefully. “I’m gonna be gone till ten,” he reported. “Hope you don’t need the shitbox.”

Gansey hummed. “I can walk.”

“You going to see Czerny? Pick mine up too, will you?”

Gansey appraised him triply over the top of the newspaper, his mug, and his wireframes. “Of course, dear. I was planning on it. Don’t be late to work.”

“At least some of us have jobs,” Ronan shot back as he pulled the door shut behind him.

*

A double shift for Ronan consisted of an afternoon at the deli wrapping up meat for customers, and when the store closed, a night of decorating cakes for the bakery section. There were some aspects of this part of the shift that he enjoyed - it was a welcome change from the chill, sterile monotony of carving meat, and he didn't have to deal with any customers. 

The grocery store was a different place at night, an empty shrine of consumerism. The industrial kitchen, normally warm from the oven, was cool and silent. The only other people there were a few shelf stockers and the janitors. Sometimes Ronan went his entire shift without speaking to anyone.

“LYNCH!” The bellow echoed off the walls of the bakery section. Ronan cringed. _Sometimes._

Joseph Kavinsky was the night manager of Pak N Save, the degenerate nephew of the store’s owner. It was painfully obvious that nepotism was the only reason he kept his job. He had the kind of tattoos that assured Ronan this gig was probably going to be the highlight of his resume for the rest of his working life. Most nights, he did a line of coke off of his uncle’s desk and then wandered around the store yelling at people indiscriminately. Ronan knew this because Kavinsky had offered him drugs more than once. Usually it was cocaine, once it was a mysterious little green pill that Kavinsky just told him would be a "fun time.” Ronan had decided it was probably Rohypnol and declined.

Tonight he was empty-handed. He walked over to lean on the glass display case that separated the kitchen from the store floor with the air of one at ease in his own personal kingdom.

“Hello, Joseph,” Ronan said. Kavinsky went by his last name, but Ronan greatly enjoyed pissing him off in any way possible. He wasn’t really sure why he hadn’t been fired yet.

“Sup, loser,” he responded. His fingers drummed the glass display case unevenly. “What the fuck are you up to?”

“Cakes,” Ronan replied disinterestedly. The two of them had an unspoken agreement that as long as Ronan stayed behind the counter and Kavinsky in front of it, they would humor each other. The truce was rarely breached, but when it was, it tended to be violent.

Kavinsky chuckled derisively. “Don’t you get tired of that shit?”

Ronan finally looked up at him to bestow a carefully crafted eye roll. “Some of us, believe it or not, have to work to earn money.”

“Sounds boring.” He was getting fingerprints on the case where his fingers drummed, and Ronan felt a spike of annoyance. Trish, the middle aged woman who ran the bakery, would blame him for it if he didn’t clean it up after he was done decorating. Ronan knew that Trish liked him - she had remarked on his broad shoulders more than once - but she took the cleanliness of her domain very seriously. Kavinsky’s fingers stopped moving abruptly and his head jerked up. “What the hell are you doing in here? We’re closed.”

Ronan looked up and followed the direction of his gaze to see a woman walking towards them. Her strikingly purple dress told him that she was definitely not a Pak N Save employee, as did the self assured way she carried herself. “Oh, I know you’re closed,” she said. “One of the gentlemen up front was nice enough to let me in. My work schedule today didn’t permit me to come while you were open, and I need to pick up a cake. So I thought I’d drop by.”

She relayed all of this information with a polite smile and the tone of someone explaining the water cycle to a first grader. Kavinsky scowled and turned on his heel without a word, presumably to seek out whoever had permitted the woman entrance. She turned her attention to Ronan, and raised her eyebrows. “I assume you’re who I would talk to?”

Ronan grunted and accepted the carbon copy of the order sheet she gave him, from which he learned her name was Blue Sargent. It wasn’t difficult to find her order, which he himself had decorated the night before. It was the only box left in the holding area. He set it on the counter without looking at it. Before Blue accepted it she peered through the clear plastic window on the top, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. Carefully, she opened the box, stared for a moment, and then looked at Ronan blankly. “I ordered a cake that said Happy 5th Anniversary, Jennie and Roy.”

Ronan glanced at the cake critically. It was frosted sloppily, even by his standards, in green. The curling script across the top read _Happy 1,825 days of marriage._ The word marriage was written in all caps and crowded together at the end where Ronan had run out of space. He was impressed with himself to note that he had gotten the math right.

“Huh. Well, artistic license and all,” Ronan said dismissively. In truth, he had been feeling the effects of the joint he had smoked in his car before his shift when he frosted the cake, but he decided not to inform the woman of this.

“You gave me something completely different to what I ordered,” Blue stated coolly. Ronan really looked at her for the first time. She was a few heads shorter than him, though she managed to stare up at him as if she were looking down on him. Her nose, hair, and expression were spiky. Her cloth bag, dotted with colorful pins, suggested it had been stomped on by real Peruvian villagers and therefore cost three times what it should.

Ronan shrugged. "This is Pak n Save, not the French Laundry." The woman fixed him with an unamused glare. He knew he was being an asshole, but he was finding it awfully difficult to muster up compassion for someone who found themselves important enough to swing by a public grocery store after it had been closed for two hours and demand to pick up her custom ordered _anniversary cake._

"This is unacceptable. I’d like to speak with your manager."

Ronan snickered. "Be my guest, he's right over there." Kavinsky had returned and he leered at them from the bread section. As Blue turned to look at him he raised two fingers and stuck his tongue between them, waggling it gleefully. She whirled back around, clearly shocked by the display of vulgarity. Ronan, despite himself, felt a little bad for her. No one deserved that.

"Listen, I can redo the cake if you want. But it won't be ready until Monday. We've got a lot of orders to catch up on."

Blue's eyes flashed dangerously and Ronan realized he was a little intimidated by her despite the fact he was roughly twice her size. "Well," she squinted to read his smudgy name tag, " _Robin,_ this party is tomorrow. So that's not going to cut it."

He rolled his eyes. "It's Ronan. I'm sorry to hear that but unfortunately there's nothing I can do." He pictured the spat that would probably occur between the married couple as a result of the missing cake. _Domestic bliss indeed,_ he thought gleefully.

Blue's tone lost some of its venom, replaced with the resignation that often colored customer’s voices when they realized the kind of person they were dealing with. "Okay. Ronan. Come here."

Ronan found himself obeying. She dug in her bag for a second and produced a crisp $20 bill which she laid on the counter surreptitiously. "Would this make you work any faster?"

Ronan gawked at the money. He had never been offered a bribe before in his life. His pride only stung for a second before he replied "Shoulda mentioned it, I think I can figure something out."

Kavinsky, who had been watching them like a hungry cat, sidled over immediately. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I'd like to make sure you're aware that our employees can't accept tips-"

"You can fuck right off, you pathetic dirtbag, unless you want me to report that gesture you just made at me. Even slippery little weasels like you have a hard time running from sexual harassment charges." Blue said all this without taking her eyes off her nails, but then she leveled Kavinsky with a cool gaze. "Especially," she finished, "when they're coming from me."

Kavinsky looked stunned for a few seconds, then turned around and stalked off again, muttering venomously under his breath. Ronan was quite impressed. He'd been telling Kavinsky to fuck off since the dawn of time without any measurable progress.

"You gotta teach me how to do that," he said to Blue as he hurried to gather frosting and fresh piping bags.

She scoffed. "Fat chance. You can bet that in my hypothetical case I'd also expose your shoddy decorating skills and that disaster you called a cake."

That stung a little bit, because Ronan was good at his job when he was trying. He expressed his offense by falling silent. Blue just stood at the counter, staring at the day old bread behind the glass.

“You gonna hang around here the whole time?” Ronan asked eventually. 

“You obviously can’t be left unsupervised,” she retorted. 

Ronan scowled. The fluorescent lights fizzled feebly above them.

“Who’re Jennie and Roy,” he asked, deadpan, to fill the silence.

Blue blinked. “Oh - they’re my friend’s salukis. She’s had them for five years now.” 

“Salukis?”

“You know - the dog? Hound type?”

Ronan dropped the frosting bag he held. “I’m making...a cake for a pair of dogs?”

“Well, the human guests are going to eat it, obviously,” she said. She was scrolling through her phone as if the conversation was commonplace for her, missing the viciously incredulous face Ronan was making for her benefit. “We found a sweet little shop downtown that does pet friendly desserts for the dogs.”

Ronan resisted his urge to fling himself into the industrial oven. The way money made children of adults never ceased to amaze him. He didn’t say anything, just gawked at Blue for a second longer. She was still scrolling, pausing to double tap something. _Instagram_ , Ronan thought scornfully. Still, his residual respect for how she had shut down Kavinsky colored his impression of her. He finished laying the base of white frosting, and it was time to border it and add the words. This time he wrote everything correctly, and even added a flourish at the bottom. _For free._

Blue clicked her phone off with a little sigh as Ronan boxed the cake up. She examined it suspiciously when he brought it to the counter, but it must have satisfied her. “Thanks,” she said, with only the slightest edge of sarcasm.

“No problem, _Blue_ ,” he drawled. Her eyes narrowed momentarily, but she accepted the box. He watched for a few minutes as she left the store, the fall of her footsteps echoing slightly. 

*

Across town, Gansey pounded on the wooden door of his drug dealer’s apartment. “Doctor No! Open up!” It was his self imposed duty to come up with as many ridiculous nicknames for Noah as possible.

Noah opened his door and looked Gansey up and down in his plaintive way. Everything about him was pale except for the sharp dark lines of his tattoos. “Hey man,” he said, extending his fist. Gansey returned the gesture, and then looked over Noah’s shoulder at the other person in the living room. He knew that Noah must have other clients, but now that he thought about it he had never seen any of them. It was difficult to imagine Noah's activities outside of one’s direct interaction with him.

“This is Adam,” Noah said, gesturing at the guy as he let Gansey into the apartment. “Adam, Gansey.” He retrieved two baggies of weed. “Where’s Ronan?”

“Work,” Gansey replied, appraising Adam as he paid Noah. Even though he’d never met any of them, Gansey had the definite feeling that Noah didn’t invite all of his customers to hang out with him. He wondered what it was about Adam that had invoked his favor. He was taller than either of them, with hair that was rumpled boyishly. His face was agreeable and fine boned. He looked like the person Gansey would want to stop to help him if his car broke down in the mountains during a snowstorm. He also looked a little uncomfortable to be sitting in Noah’s apartment, and Gansey didn’t particularly blame him. Noah’s apartment was something else. The overhead lights were never on, rooms lit instead by countless small lamps that threw weak light. The furniture was low and minimal, and everything was eerily spotless. Every piece of art Noah owned - including his tattoos - had something to do with skeletons. 

“Should hang around a minute, Gansey,” Noah said. “We’re just about to light up.”

Gansey considered. He’d been quite excited about trying a new configuration for his ice cube tray project that evening, but he also wouldn’t mind getting to know this Adam character. “I suppose I could,” he replied. 

Noah produced an elegant bong made of swirled purple and silver glass. Gansey was surprised again. It had taken almost a month of him knowing Noah for him to trust Gansey to use his favorite piece. Now he was whipping it out for a practical stranger. He was tempted to bring this up, but he knew Noah would provide a one line, deeply philosophical answer that would leave Gansey puzzling for hours. Sometimes when Gansey was high his brain got caught up in loops. If he didn't understand something he would think about it until he did, even if it took an unreasonable amount of time. 

He watched as Noah passed his bong to the left to let a guest begin, as always. Adam hit it aggressively and coughed a little afterwards. Noah took his turn serenely and steadily, as always. Gansey just minded his own business and didn’t show off.

“MarioKart?” Noah asked after the bong had made a few rounds. The only way to tell if Noah was high was to ask him.

“Only if I can be Koopa Troopa,” Gansey said.

“Dude, no one wants to be Koopa Troopa,” Noah murmured as he turned on the GameCube. Even though he ostensibly had the money, he hadn’t updated his gaming platform since 2006.

To Gansey’s slight surprise, Adam held his own at MarioKart, beating both him and Noah neatly in the first race. Noah insisted on Rainbow Road, then, and won, as always. Then Adam beat them twice in a row. His silent victories intrigued Gansey. There was no gloating or celebration, just a matter of fact air of having gotten the job done.

“I’m impressed, Adam,” he said agreeably after he had clobbered them for the fourth time. “But how do you fare in the arena?”

Noah refused to play Balloon Battle, claiming it raised his blood pressure unduly, turning the game into a match between the two others. Gansey and Adam turned out to be quite evenly matched, and the game lasted almost twenty minutes. Finally, Gansey came out on top after throwing a particularly sneaky shell. 

Noah was asleep by the time they had finished, stretched across the couch. “He does this once in a while,” Gansey told Adam. “He just goes out. Nothing’ll wake him up.”

Adam nodded, looking a bit dazed.

“You ever been to IHOP when you were baked? There’s one on the corner.”

Before they left the apartment, Gansey did take the opportunity to show off, french inhaling a broad stream of smoke in front of Adam’s wide eyes.

*

“And where have you been?” Ronan demanded when he finally got home. He was still wearing his work apron, sprawled on the couch with his laptop open on his stomach and Chainsaw sprawled similarly next to him.

“Just at Noah’s,” Gansey said. “I met one of his other customers. I like him.”

“You like him?” Ronan asked, grinning wickedly.

“I think he’s a cool guy,” Gansey said.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Man, you can say you’re straight.”

“Okay. I want to get to know him, but, as of the moment, I feel no sexual attraction to him,” Gansey said earnestly. 

“Well done, really lovely introspection.”

“What have you been doing, anyway? Burning Sims?”

Ronan didn’t reply, but he angled his computer screen away from Gansey. “You smell like a waffle house,” he said accusatorially.

“You smell like cake,” Gansey replied. “First shower’s mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit to greenmantle.tumblr.com for inspiring Ronan's love of Sims. comments are my lifeblood and I shiver with excitement when I see them idk if that motivates you to comment or makes it less likely but it is true


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is only half as long as the first one, but it made sense to divide things up this way. enjoy!

Caffeine was one of those things that Ronan could rarely justify spending money on, but took every opportunity to do so anyway. He reasoned that it was the most socially acceptable of his vices and therefore should be rewarded. Gansey, who took every opportunity to inform Ronan snidely that he would rather spend money on _experiences_ than _things_ , rarely accompanied him. Today was an exception because he was out of tea bags. 

Someone familiar was standing in front of them in line at the little coffee shop that lived down the street from Gansey’s favorite bookstore. It wasn’t until he noticed the bag covered in pins that Ronan remembered where he’d seen her. When she turned around, drink in hand, he caught her eye.

“Oh, baker guy,” Blue remarked in surprise once she recognized him. “Ronan.” 

Ronan went a little pink as he muttered a greeting. He didn’t particularly like to talk about his cake shifts. Butchery sounded badass. Baking sounded domestic.

“Who’s your friend?” Blue asked, bobbing the teabag in a mug of what looked like dishwater to Ronan. Her fingernails were painted forest green.

“Uh, this is Gansey,” Ronan said. “Gansey, Blue. I made her a cake.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Gansey said, flashing a winning smile and reaching to shake the hand that wasn’t occupied by steaming dishwater. Sometimes Ronan forgot that Gansey could turn on impressive charisma on the turn of a dime, since Gansey almost never used it on him. It was just as well, because Ronan found charisma phony.

 

Blue returned the smile. Her version of it involved less teeth than Gansey’s, but it looked just as potent. “Gansey. That’s an interesting name.”

“Last name, actually,” Gansey informed her. “You must know all about interesting names.”

Blue raised her eyebrows a little, but she laughed. Turning to Ronan, “The cake was a big hit. You have a real talent.”

Roman grimaced in a way that he hoped resembled graciousness. 

“Nice seeing you! And good to meet you, Mr. Gansey!” Blue swished away to the back of the cafe before either of them could reply, pulling out a slim laptop and a glossy black planner as she went, all efficiency.

Gansey was silent for a minute. “She is certainly radiant,” he remarked. Ronan rolled his eyes. Gansey was infamous for developing brief but intense crushes on practical strangers. “Blue,” he said softly, trying it out on his tongue.

“Can it,” Ronan ordered as he studied the menu. “She’s probably dating a business major.”

*

Ronan had sort of been listening to Gansey discuss the wide range of possibilities that had become available to him when the Thirsty Bird patent had unexpectedly expired a week ago. He had also been listening to the cartoonish screams of the Sim he was burning. Of all the ways to kill Sims, burning had always been his favorite. Drowning took so long. Woohooing them to death made Ronan feel weird. Burning was best. 

So, when Gansey punctuated his chatter with, “Oh, by the way, my friend Adam is gonna drop by later,” Ronan had acknowledged the statement with a grunt and failed to internalize it. So, when Ronan decided to make banana pancakes that evening, he hadn’t bothered to dress himself in anything more than his boxers. So, when the front door opened and someone other than Gansey entered, he felt not only the panic one experiences upon a home intrusion, but also the singular sensation of unexpected public exposure.

“Who the hell are you,” he said eloquently.

“Oh - I’m so sorry,” the stranger said, his eyes widening in surprise. “I must have come in the wrong-”

Gansey blustered into the house, then, with an armload of what looked like industrial steel wool. He glanced between the two of them, brow furrowed at Ronan’s appearance. “Hello, old chap. Adam, this is Ronan. My roommate.”

The halfway memory of Gansey mentioning a visitor stirred in the back of Ronan’s head. He gawked for a minute. Adam, he had quickly realized, was ridiculously attractive. He looked like he belonged in an advertisement for luxury power drills or artisan beef jerky. He took a step forward and extended his hand toward Ronan. “I’m Adam. It’s nice to meet you.” His voice was not the type of voice Ronan heard on a regular basis. It was assured and soft and signified that he didn’t have to rely on swagger to win arguments.

Ronan shook his hand, which he noticed was as well constructed and sure as his face. “Hey,” he said, keeping his tone guarded. He was a bit territorial over the house. Not just anyone, he thought, should be trusted in a place where someone like Gansey stored so many fragile aspirations and fleeting dreams.

“Adam’s interested in the ice tray proposition,” Gansey announced imperiously, and walked over to the cupboard that held his scheme. By virtue of their tiny kitchen, the pair of them were close enough to Ronan that he could smell Adam’s cologne. It had to be his because Gansey only ever smelled like mint tea and wool. Ronan refused to abandon his pancakes, so he had to stand and listen to Gansey deliver a minutes long lecture on freezer physics to a painfully attractive man while he stood there in his underpants. To his credit, Adam listened with interest and inserted _ah_ s and _uhuh_ s whenever appropriate. Ronan shuffled closer to the bacon on the far burner to avoid them, but a fleck of grease popped onto his bare chest and he cursed loudly.

“Are you all right, Ronan?” Gansey said, leaving off in the middle of his sentence. He didn’t sound very concerned.

“Fine,” Ronan growled, shoving his food onto a plate unceremoniously and turning around to retreat to his room. Adam was wide eyed. Ronan was aware that he hadn’t made a very good first impression, but he was too flustered to try again. 

He burned a total of sixteen Sims that evening, which was a personal best.

*

Gansey had been visiting the coffee shop Ronan had taken him to a lot over the last few weeks. He told himself it was because he liked the atmosphere, and it definitely wasn’t because he wanted to run into the girl Ronan had introduced him to again. He wasn’t sure he had convinced himself. He definitely hadn’t convinced Ronan.

His nose was almost touching the pages of the book he was balancing in his fingers, trying to read a minuscule chart. Blinkered as he was, when he heard someone say his name at close range, he nearly closed the book on his own face.

“It’s Gansey, right?” It was the girl. Blue. Her smile faltered as he stared up, bemused. “Ah - sorry! I thought I recognized you!” 

“No,” Gansey said, “that is me. Hi. Blue.”

She grinned. Gansey noticed the faint casting of sooty freckles across her copper colored nose for the first time.

“Join me, if you like,” Gansey said, hastily pushing his empty coffee cup and stack of books out of the way. “How are you?”

Blue set down a mug of something that smelled brutally herbal on the worn table. “Pretty good,” she said. “I like to come here to get out of the office.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a project manager for Fox Way Systems,” Blue said. “Techy stuff. It’s exceptionally boring in theory, but mildly exciting in practice. We’re just a little startup, though, in one of the warehouses two blocks over. My hours are absolutely ridiculous, and the heating’s still a bit wonky, so I like to come here and warm up.”

She did look like she had been in the middle of some hard work, Gansey thought with admiration. Her unruly hair was put up with a dozen tiny clips, and a stubby pencil sat behind her ear. She took a sip of tea. “What about you?”

Gansey tapped the cover of one of the books absently. “Self-employed.”

Blue raised her eyebrows, and Gansey wasn’t sure if she was impressed or derisive. She read the title aloud: “Investigating the Parasciences, Volume III: Dowsing.”

“It’s a good introduction to the subject,” Gansey said earnestly, “but it fails, I think, to respond adequately to the proposal of the ideomotor phenomenon as explanation for dowsing's historical success.”

Blue’s eyes crinkled in amusement, but her tone remained cool. “So you aren’t convinced?”

Gansey grinned. “I am convinced. I’m disappointed.”

Blue laughed, not unkindly. “So how do you know Ronan?”

“My roommate,” Gansey said. “We go way back.”

Something danced in Blue’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Gansey knew what she was thinking. “We have a quick business shower together once in a while,” he clarified, “but we aren’t romantically involved.”

Blue’s laughter was a sparkling thing. “Thanks for letting me know. Gansey.” Gansey wondered if her use of his name was a habit ingrained in her by the professional world. He hoped it was just because she liked him.

They talked for a long time, and before she left Blue put her number into Gansey’s phone in a way that left him sure it had been his idea to do so in the first place. He tried unsuccessfully to finish reading the chapter he was on for about fifteen minutes and drove home, smiling giddily the entire way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> business shower: (noun) an intimate shower taken between 2 persons solely for the purpose of saving time, completely devoid of any sexual connotation.
> 
> thank you for reading! leave a comment if you're so inclined, they make me very happy.


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t understand why we have to watch a horror movie,” Ronan groaned. Gansey continued to flick through the options on the Netflix account they leeched from his parents. It had, of course, been his idea to invite Noah and their two new friends over for movie night. Ronan hated horror movies. He’d always told himself it was because they were poorly acted and badly made, and not because Declan had made him sit through Pet Sematary when he was six and told him the whole thing was true. Ronan hadn’t been able to sleep at all that night, terrified that a reanimated child corpse would knock on his bedroom door. Sometimes he was still terrified that a reanimated child corpse would knock on his bedroom door.

“I know you’re scared, Ronan,” Gansey said loftily, “but we’re all here to make sure you’ll be okay.”

Ronan eyed him murderously. He was lucky that he was trying to make a better impression on Adam, and therefore wouldn’t curse with the same abandon he normally would. When he glanced at Adam, though, he was watching Ronan with something resembling amusement.

“ _Thankskilling_? _Scream_? _Slaughtered Vomit Dolls_?” Gansey read off titles as he paged through them. They’d been at this for about ten minutes already. The five of them were gathered in Ronan and Gansey’s living room, all somehow squeezed onto the couch along with a massive bowl of popcorn. Ronan had decreed that the middle of the couch was for runts, so Blue and Noah were squashed between him and Gansey, while Adam sat half on the couch’s arm and half on the cushion next to Ronan. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as it sounded, mostly because the arm had collapsed months ago when Gansey had stood the couch on its end to make room for a short lived venture involving drums of rainwater. Ronan was pointedly not thinking about the way Adam’s folded leg was touching his side.

“Can it be something with haunting? I’d like something with a haunting,” Noah said tonelessly. He had a bit more color than usual, but still looked rather spectral against the dark brown couch. 

“I’m not watching anything gory,” Ronan said. “I’m not a barbarian.”

“Oh, please,” Gansey said. “You spend your free time brutally killing computer generated avatars.”

Ronan saw Adam’s eyebrows quirk over this out of the corner of his eye and made a mental note to slip rat poison into Gansey’s tea bags.

“You guys are shit at making decisions,” Blue said impatiently.

“Is there a goddamn suggestion you would like to make?” Ronan snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “Noah wants something with ghosts, you apparently swoon at the sight of blood.” Ronan scoffed but she went on undeterred. “Gansey likes history. Adam?”

“Impartial.”

“All right then. The obvious choice is _The Others_. 2001. Nicole Kidman.”

They all gawked at her for a moment. It felt natural that Blue would have an encyclopedic knowledge of many things, but horror movies hadn’t seemed likely to be one of them.

“Go ahead,” she said, wide eyes daring any of them to question her expertise.

Gansey clumsily toggled the title into the search bar, and lingered on it for a moment before Blue turned her head sharply toward him and he hit play. He turned to regard her after the movie had begun. He looked like he was stuck in an uneasy spot between fear and arousal.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, Adam slid all the way off the arm of the couch. “Sorry,” he whispered at Ronan. 

“It’s okay,” Ronan whispered back. He realized that now Adam was in full contact with him, and could feel the way Ronan tensed up at every scare. He cursed himself internally and willed his body to stop reacting, but the extra tension just made it worse. At the next scene he actually emitted a choked noise of dread. It was mostly drowned out by Noah’s squeak and Gansey’s surprised bellow, but he could tell Adam had heard him. 

Adam’s hand found Ronan’s shoulder in the dark and gave it a squeeze. Ronan imagined it staying there but it lingered for only a few seconds before Adam moved his arm onto the top of the couch behind Ronan. _Normal_ , Ronan thought to himself furiously. _Bros do that._

By the time the credits were rolling, Blue and Gansey were already arguing about which movie to watch next. Noah was asleep, a fact made miraculous by the amount of noise they had all generated throughout the course of the film. Ronan wondered for the umpteenth time whether Noah suffered from narcolepsy, his condition undiagnosed or undisclosed. Adam was silent next to him.

“Be right back,” Ronan mumbled and shoved off the couch. He rummaged around in the kitchen junk drawer and found a cigarette. He didn’t smoke them often, but he needed something quick to calm his thumping heart. 

He leaned in the back doorway and had hardly lit his cigarette when Adam appeared.

“Hey,” Ronan said, offering him the first puff of it. Adam waved his hand and Ronan took it instead. “What’s up?”

Adam shrugged slowly. His hand ran through his hair. On someone else, the motion would have looked nervous. On Adam it looked natural. “You know, when I came over here the other day, I thought you really hated me. I was surprised to see you were here tonight.”

Ronan reddened at Adam’s bluntness. “Uh, yeah, well. I wasn’t expecting company. And it puts me on edge when Gansey goes on about that god damn ice business. He moved all of our plates out of that cupboard. I don’t hate you.”

“You’ve got to admit that his proposal presents an innovative solution to a classic problem,” Adam said, something playing at the corner of his mouth. Ronan realized he hadn’t seen Adam smile yet, though he’d never given anything less than a friendly impression.

Ronan gave him a long suffering look in response. They were silent for a minute as Ronan smoked. Cicadas roared from the gnarled oak tree behind the house.

“So - you and Gansey - you’re not...” Adam’s voice faltered on the edge of a question.

It took Ronan a moment to get what he meant. “Together? Oh - god, no. Ew.”

Adam’s face didn’t exactly drop, but when Ronan said this, his almost-smile faltered and he looked away from Ronan, seeming strangely ashamed.

Ronan fell silent and then realized - “Um. I meant _ew_ because he’s Gansey. Not because...he’s a dude...or whatever.” He felt heat flooding his face. _Shut up shut up shut up._

Adam looked up, glimpse of a smile returning. “That so?”

His vowels slid with the opulent Virginia accent Ronan had only heard of hints of before, his tongue seemingly loosened over time. Ronan’s legs felt weak.

“Yeah. So...” Ronan trailed off lamely. Then everything went a bit fuzzy because Adam had placed a beautiful hand on Ronan’s cheek. “God,” Ronan said, in a small voice. This had never happened to him before, not this suddenly. People tended to read him as straight or murderous or both.

Adam laughed, and it was a beautiful thing. Ronan noticed that he had a dimple in his cheek. Then he kissed Ronan. It was barely more than a passing brush of lips.

“Sorry,” Adam said as he withdrew. “I should have asked permission.”

“That’s...okay,” Ronan said. _Be cool._ “I like your hands.” _Fuck._

Adam laughed again and the dimple made a reappearance. He plucked the cigarette, which had accumulated a tail of ash, from Ronan’s frozen hand and took a long drag on it. “Are you giving me permission to do that again?” His words were slow and easy.

Ronan nodded numbly, and this time Adam kissed him properly. 

*

Gansey was mildly outraged when Ronan related the news to him the next morning.

“He comes to my place and kisses _you_?” Gansey wondered aloud, pacing the living room. “I mean, I’m not saying he should have kissed _me_ , though I was the one who invited him.” He stopped and considered. “And what if things got awkward between you? Then he wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore anyway.”

“Dude, I think you might be even more into this guy than I am,” Ronan said flatly. Even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true. After they had come in from the backyard, Adam hadn’t been shy about putting his arm around Ronan anymore and Ronan had spent the entirety of the second movie trying not to die.

Gansey paused and came over to pat Ronan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m happy for you, really.” His face took on a triumphant expression. “I notice, though, that you haven’t inquired as to whether anything happened to _me_ last night.”

Ronan raised his eyebrows, but Gansey just grinned until Ronan said, “Enlighten me.”

“Blue said she knows the manager of a company who is in search of someone with my,” here he paused dramatically, “particular set of talents. She said she would introduce me sometime this week.”

Ronan groaned. “Dude, I thought you were gonna say you got laid.”

Gansey shot him a vexed look. “Excuse me if I prioritize my professional life over desires of the flesh.”

“Since when have you prioritized your professional life over anything?”

Gansey looked wounded, but he took a sip from his omnipresent mug instead of answering Ronan because it was true. Gansey had always scorned stability, preferring to live on mint tea and canned soup on his own terms. “Maybe it’ll represent a new chapter in my life,” he said gaily.

“Maybe,” Ronan echoed, but his thoughts were elsewhere, with the dimple in Adam’s cheek and the feel of his lips. “Aren’t they gonna make you take a drug test?” he asked absently.

Gansey waved a hand. “These millennial companies don’t care about that. Speaking of which, I think we could use a joint. You are looking...agitated.”

Ronan grumbled some curses in Gansey’s general direction, but he couldn’t argue with the suggestion and went to fetch his rolling papers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally some goddamn action around here eh


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh I've never been to virginia and know nothing of its weather patterns so sorry if this is bullshit, uhhh this was probably my fave chapter to write so far so strap in :~)

Ronan was only a little bitter the next day when Gansey announced he was off to meet Blue for coffee. He had wanted to get high and play Skyrim all afternoon, a venture made more pleasurable with company. It also reminded him that he was at a stalemate with the Adam situation. He didn’t have his number, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask Gansey for it.

Ronan’s track record with relationships wasn’t all that great. He was lucky enough to never have been part of a passionless middle school pairing with a girl - he’d already known himself well enough by then, and his family had made it clear that they didn’t care what Ronan did with his free time. Having Declan as an older sibling had helped in this regard, since his parents were so worried about him prematurely spawning a surplus of Lynches that to learn Ronan was gay had seemed almost a relief. 

His high school classmates hadn’t been as sympathetic. Luckily, Ronan’s immaculate left hook had meant he was never in danger of being bullied. After a few fights, his reputation preceded him and nobody bothered him. He had never been as good at making connections as he was at destroying them, though, and drunken party hookups and sloppy blowjobs behind the bleachers had comprised the extent of his high school sex life. These encounters had been searing in their intensity but left him feeling empty and inadequate, especially when the other guy stubbornly pretended that nothing had happened between them. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that casual sex wasn’t something he had the necessary software to run successfully, but it hadn’t stopped him from occasional trysts. After graduating, Ronan had discovered Grindr and began treating it like an illicit substance. Every few months or so he would reinstall the app and embark on a sexual endeavor that either fizzled abortively as he grew bored, or exploded fantastically as he attempted to negotiate his own emotions.

Adam didn’t seem like the kind of guy that he’d meet on Grindr, though.

His roommate burst through the door a few hours later, interrupting Ronan’s musing. His hair was tousled, there were spots of color high on his cheeks, and the brightness of his smile rivaled the sunshine that backlit him in the doorway. Ronan was disgusted.

“You look like you just got ravished,” Ronan said.

“Ravished,” Gansey said, “by overwhelming affection for a very special lady.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan said. 

Gansey looked at him solemnly. “I’m very serious, Ronan. The best way I can explain it is that when I’m with her, everything slows down. All my thoughts. You’re going to laugh at me, but the only thing I can compare it to is smoking. Except, when I’m with her, nothing is dulled. If anything, it all gets sharper. When I’m with her it feels like I can do it all, but I don’t _have_ to do any of it.” 

He regarded Ronan entreatingly, as though he were praying he’d made himself understood. Ronan swallowed. He was never going to completely understand Gansey - no one was - but he knew some things. He knew - “She’s important to you.”

Gansey nodded, wide eyed and silent.

“Are you gonna tell her that?”

Gansey’s expression crumpled into dread.

“Don’t give me that face. You need to get emotionally available. Chicks dig it.”

Gansey wrinkled his nose. “And I’m supposed to believe you know what chicks dig?”

“Dude, I lived with fucking Declan for eighteen years. If you saw how many chicks were in and out of his room you’d think it was a goddamn ladies’ restroom. I learned by osmosis.”

Gansey didn’t argue with this but his face remained morose. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Fuck if I know. Quote Labyrinth at her?” Gansey’s expression didn’t budge. Ronan sighed. Drastic times. “Richard Gansey. You’re an intelligent, attractive, reproductively viable young person. Blue has sought out your company on more than one occasion. Pull yourself up by your goddamn bootstraps and tell her how you feel. I believe in you, asshole.”

When he met Gansey’s eyes again his roommate was looking at him as though Ronan had just delivered Aragorn’s speech at Helm’s Deep. To be fair, verbal support and honest compliments from Ronan were rarer than total solar eclipses, and Gansey had just received a good deal of both in the span of a few seconds. He flung himself at Ronan and gave him a big hug.

“Okay, okay, don’t cry on me,” Ronan muttered, but he rubbed Gansey’s back affectionately. Ronan disliked disturbances in his surroundings, and Gansey being upset counted as a major disturbance. He also cared about him, a lot, he supposed.

In his front pocket his phone vibrated. Gansey felt it too and jerked out of the hug, staring at Ronan mistrustfully. “What was that?”

Ronan cackled and took his phone out of his pocket. “It’s a goddamn text message. Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t purport to know your habits,” Gansey muttered.

Ronan didn’t have a chance to respond, because the messages that had appeared on his screen were taking up all of his attention. 

_hi, ronan? this is adam. got your number from your roommate.  
what are you up to this saturday?_

“Why didn’t you tell me he asked for my number?!” he hissed. Gansey cocked his head, perplexed, until Ronan shoved the screen in his face.

“Oh! Adam? I forgot! Oh…” Gansey said as he scanned the messages. “Oh,” he said again as a salacious grin spread across his face. “Are you upset I gave out your information so freely?

“No!” Ronan snapped. “I just would have appreciated some forewarning! God, okay. Fuck.” He ran a hand over his shorn hair. “What do I do.”

Gansey plucked the phone from his hands. “ _Dear…Adam…have hot yoga Sat, sorry_.”

“You disgust me,” Ronan growled as he snatched the phone back. “I just gave you a metric fuckton of stupid relationship advice.”

“As if you need my help,” Gansey said. “He’s done all the work so far. You’re being pathetic.”

Ronan bit his lip as he pressed send on his response, which he hoped conveyed the correct blend of animation and restraint. Within ten minutes Adam messaged back that he would pick Ronan up at one o’clock.

“What is this?” he hissed. “Is this a date? Are we just hanging out?”

“Ronan, if he kissed you, I’m inclined to say it’s a date,” Gansey said loftily. “Dust off your most charming smile, old sport.”

*

When he woke up on Saturday Ronan put on his tightest pants.

“Nervous?” Gansey asked brightly.

“Nah,” Ronan said as he chewed furiously on his thumbnail.

Adam's shining black Lexus rolled up to the curb three agonizing hours later, suggesting at the same time glamour and stability. Gansey whistled.

“Shut up,” Ronan snarled.

“Didn’t say a word,” Gansey said easily. 

They both watched through the front window as Adam got out of the car, casting glances about the neighborhood. 

“Could you come pick me up, mother? I seem to have wound up in the ghetto somehow,” Gansey voiced over, mimicking Adam’s Virginia affect. Ronan cuffed him across the head viciously, but then the doorbell was ringing.

Adam was dressed in a light blue button down and jeans whose immaculate fit said they had cost more than Ronan’s last paycheck. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. They both stared at him for a moment longer than necessary. Ronan coughed. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Adam replied, softly. Ronan realized that he was staring back at him.

“Have him back at a reasonable hour, please,” Gansey said. Ronan flipped him off squarely and followed Adam out of the house.

“Sorry he’s such an ass,” Ronan muttered as Adam lead the way to his car.

“I like Gansey,” Adam said innocently.

“Try living with him,” Ronan replied.

Adam took Ronan to a quaint little gelato shop. It was decorated in pastels and Italian opera music piped through the air. It was very nice, and Ronan behaved very well as they ate lavender flavored gelato and flirted.

Then Adam put him back in the Lexus and they drove away from town, past the suburbs that clung to its edges, until they were properly in the middle of nowhere. Ronan didn’t ask what they were doing. The car’s stereo blared classic rock, which Ronan normally found cheesy. Now it felt like the natural backdrop to the wind whipping through the windows, the afternoon sun bearing down on them, Adam’s tousled hair and exposed forearms. The road stretched long, straight, and empty in front of them. “Let me know if you see the fuzz, okay?” Adam said, smirking at Ronan as he gunned the engine. It was a wickedly good smirk that looked as though it was saved for special occasions, and he felt rather honored that Adam had used it on him.

Ronan had been smiling while they ate gelato, but now he grinned. He had thrashed the shitbox around a bit in empty parking lots, but he was afraid to push it too hard. This was what he longed to do, and being the passenger rather than the driver wasn’t bothering him as much as he thought it would. He found himself absorbed by Adam’s expression of steady concentration, and by the way his hand flexed on the gearshift.

They followed a turn in the road and Adam eased up on the gas as they approached a spot with a broad gravel shoulder. “All right,” he yelled above the engine, “hang on.” Ronan watched as Adam shifted into second, hammered the clutch, and flicked the steering wheel with practiced ease, intentionally oversteering onto the shoulder. They drifted for what felt like several minutes, the slide of the car intensified by the slippery gravel beneath it. By the time they skidded to a stop, the nose of the car was pointed in the direction they had come from. Adam turned to him, and he looked alive with adrenaline, hands sliding up and down the wheel and knee jostling up and down. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I learned on a course.”

Ronan laughed wildly. He was breathless and he could feel his heartbeat. “Fuck,” he said. “You crazy bastard.”

Adam laughed too, loud and alive. He tipped his forehead onto the steering wheel. When he straightened up he looked more carefree than Ronan had ever seen him. “Okay, you passed,” he said, voice almost hoarse.

Ronan raised an eyebrow. 

“You didn’t scream, you didn’t piss yourself, and you didn’t get mad,” Adam said, hand jostling the gearshift again. “You did swear at me, but I liked it.”

Ronan had to look away lest Adam see his blush. They sped off fast enough to throw a spray of gravel up in their wake. 

Adam drove until they crested the spire of a long, broad hill. All around them lay sloping land and they looked out on what seemed like an eternal Virginia. Adam coasted to a stop on another shoulder that looked out over the lowlands.

Wordlessly, Ronan pointed out of his window. To the east a growing front of dark clouds signified the approach of a rainstorm swept in from the Atlantic. As they watched, a fork of electricity rippled through the bottom layer in the stack of clouds. Both of them sat in silence, taking in the awe of the storm.

Rain had begun to spot the windshield by the time they pulled onto Ronan’s street.

They leaned against the Lexus and gazed at the gathering thunderheads. The air felt thick with ozone. Adam put a hand hesitantly at the small of Ronan’s back, and Ronan froze for a second. Adam glanced at him, sideways. Ronan looked back and noticed with a pang how the sky glinted off of Adam’s eyelashes. 

“I had a nice time,” Adam said, his voice low. He sounded like the air felt, heavy with intention. 

Ronan licked his lips. “Yeah. Me too.”

Then Adam adjusted the hand on Ronan’s back ever so slightly, and it was all the warning he had before Adam took two steps, till he was much too close to Ronan for conversation. Ronan breathed in sharply and went still again. 

“Can I?” Adam breathed, polite.

Ronan nodded minutely, and Adam turned his head and met Ronan’s lips. His other arm curled around Ronan’s side. It was a small kiss, but Ronan’s heart felt about ready to set sail out of his chest.

Adam broke away and smiled almost bashfully, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck. “Call me, okay?” he told Ronan. His little dimple was out again and Ronan was struck dumb for a moment, but he found his voice before Adam climbed into his car.

“Um - do you want to come in for a minute?” he asked before he could think about it. “Maybe wait the rain out.”

Adam stared at him appraisingly. He looked like he was chewing the inside of his lip. “Yeah,” he said. Ronan heard the hint of a challenge in his voice, and suddenly he didn’t feel as disarmed as he had a moment ago. He felt weirdly energetic, and the grin he shot at Adam felt like a dagger again.

Blessedly, Gansey was gone, his absence confirmed by their empty driveway. Ronan shot him a quick text as he trotted up the front porch steps, telling him to stay put for the next few hours. 

Adam pulled the door shut behind him and looked at Ronan, hand still on the knob. For a split second, Ronan had no idea what to do, but then the strange energy that was making his limbs light and dynamic propelled him forward and he practically crushed Adam against the door as he kissed him.

Adam gasped, but Ronan felt it quickly turn into a smile against his lips. His hands moved to Ronan’s hips.

“I didn’t think you’d have the balls to do that,” he said, voice low.

Ronan stiffened a little. “Then you’ve got a lot to learn about me.” He kissed Adam again, this time with teeth. 

*

After, they lay in companionable silence in Ronan’s bed. He had pulled the curtain open and Adam lay naked on his side in a patch of sunlight, looking godly. The storm had crescendoed and passed, and the skies were riotous with the last light of the day. Adam’s appearance was at odds with Ronan’s worn sheets and the backdrop of cracks snaking through the plaster on the walls of his bedroom. Only the sun, beaming through the little window, suited Adam Parrish. Ronan wondered if it would still be shining if Adam weren’t there to look like he belonged under it.

“What are you thinking about?” Adam asked. His voice was low and rough and his accent was stretching his vowels.

Ronan laughed shortly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Nothing.”

Adam’s fair eyebrows furrowed. “Looks like something.”

Ronan tried to think of a suitable way to voice his admiration. “You’re like...a tenderloin steak. In a world of ground chuck.” He realized how weird it sounded as soon as it was out, and he ground his face into his pillow.

Adam blinked. “Thanks.”

“Sorry, I work in a deli,” Ronan mumbled, words muffled by the pillow.

Adam laughed, a comfortable noise. Ronan felt fingers on his chin and turned in surprise to find Adam kissing him. He kissed back and felt him smiling against his lips. 

“I wish I could stay longer,” he breathed. To Ronan’s dismay, he swung himself deftly out of his bed. “But I’ve got dinner reservations with my committee. And thanks to you I’ll have to swing by home to find a collared shirt.” He gestured at the blooming marks on his collarbone.

“Committee?” Ronan asked.

Adam made a face. “Graduate committee. It’s one of those silly final year exercises. Trying to get us in shape for real life.”

Ronan didn’t reply. Dinner reservations with one’s _committee_ didn’t sound like real life to him. After Adam dressed he bent and pressed a kiss to Ronan’s cheek. “Still call me,” he said slyly, and then he was out the door. Ronan just sat dumbly on his bed for a moment, and cringed when he heard Adam greet Gansey who had apparently returned at some point.

Gansey was sitting at the table with his legs crossed reading the paper when Ronan emerged from his room ten minutes later to make ramen. Chainsaw was crouched on the table near his arm. They appraised him with matching stares as he entered the kitchen, but neither said a thing. For a few minutes Gansey stayed silent and Ronan allowed himself to hope that somehow he hadn’t connected the dots in his mind. Right after he dropped the block of noodles into the pot of boiling water, though, Gansey cleared his throat.

“Were you and Adam playing beginner’s sudoku in your room?” he asked innocuously. 

“...What?”

“It’s just that I know you’re good with numbers, and you seemed to be repeating the phrase _harder_ with a good deal of fervor.” He said it all with a completely straight face and turned the page of the newspaper when he was done.

Ronan gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. “I have a pot of boiling water in my hands as we speak.”

Gansey just hummed and turned another page. When Ronan slammed his bowl of ramen down on the table and flung himself into a chair, he set the paper down and took off his glasses.

“Do you really like him?” he asked as he cleaned his glasses on his shirt. Ronan shoved some noodles into his mouth even though they were too hot. “Careful,” Gansey ordered. “I know you’d rather risk third degree oral burns that talk about feelings, but still.”

Ronan rolled his eyes violently. “What do you think? Yes, I fucking like him.”

Gansey’s glee overflowed onto his face. “Ronan, that’s great!”

Ronan shrugged. “I doubt he’s looking for anything other than casual sex, so.” He had tried to sound nonchalant and could tell by the minute flicker of Gansey’s eyebrow that he had failed, but Gansey apparently knew better than to remark on it. Chainsaw, though, continued to hold his gaze in a way that seemed judgmental. He made a face at her.

“And what the hell have you been up to, anyway? The car was gone earlier.”

“I was grocery shopping,” Gansey said, “and I did get your text, but I had sensitive items that wouldn’t have lasted outside the freezer. My apologies.” He looked smug as he said it, though. “Also, you might be interested to know that I spoke with Blue. I took your advice and I got emotionally available. It was actually pretty easy.”

“And? What did she say?” Ronan asked, relieved to have the focus of the conversation elsewhere.

“She seemed to respond favorably,” Gansey said. He lowered his voice as though the information were clandestine. “I think we’re dating now.”

“Loser,” Ronan said, getting up to wash his bowl. 

Gansey looked pretty pleased with himself nonetheless and Ronan left him to his paper. He felt exhausted by the events of the day. He wondered how Adam’s dinner was going. Then he made himself stop thinking about Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so much happen....


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is another shorter chapter sorry! more action is coming soon. everything is planned out now and there will be two more chapters after this!

Two weeks passed in relative normalcy. Ronan and Adam had sex some more, went places together, and exchanged painfully polite text messages. Somewhere, dully in the back of his mind, Ronan knew that what was going on with Adam was different than the short lived relationships he had entertained in the past. It was in the way that his stomach flipped unfailingly when he got a text from Adam, in the way that Adam looked at him while they had coffee that said he wanted to know Ronan, not just sleep with him. He didn’t dwell on these thoughts, though, because he had learned early that optimism was for fools.

Ronan’s mind wandered a lot when he was at work. His job involved long periods of silent introspection when the store wasn’t busy, and he wasn’t allowed to listen to music any more since the incident. So his thoughts wound and drifted like dreams as he put together meat and cheese trays and printed labels and roasted chickens in the yawning oven. Right now, his dreams were mostly about Adam. His normal thoughts were easy to edit and parse, so he could pretend that certain things weren’t weighing on his mind as heavily as they were. When he was in the absent state that mass meat production put him in his thoughts flowed more freely.

“Excuse me?” A customer was trying to get his attention, Ronan realized. There was a man standing at the counter who was colorless in every sense of the word. He gestured at the package of ground beef that he held. “I’d like to know what’s going on here.” 

Ronan shuffled up to him, looked at the package. “It looks like ground beef to me.”

The man sighed, but not in drama or frustration. The sigh was matter of fact and it said _I can’t believe I have to stoop to this level to communicate with you._ “I was referring to this,” he said, pointing at the printed label that took up half the package. All the normal marks were there - weight, price, contents - but after the bar code was an unorthodox addition.

 _MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN MEAT MAN_  
proclaimed the label, ad nauseum.

“Woah, that’s really weird. Sometimes the label machine goes haywire,” Ronan said. It wasn’t really a lie, since the machine had gone haywire - Ronan had only meant to enter MEAT MAN once on the label when he’d been desperately bored packaging meat earlier in the day. He was nothing if not subtle.

The man’s expression told Ronan he wasn’t buying it. “This is profane.”

Ronan squinted at the package. “Hey man, it doesn’t say _MAN MEAT_. It’s _MEAT MAN_.”

“So you are responsible.”

 _Fuck_. “I mean, it’s just my interpret-”

“Save it,” the man said icily. “It’s clear you have no respect for your customers.”

Ronan rolled his eyes magnificently. “Is your life boring enough that this is the only thing you have to throw a shit fit over? That’s kinda sad, man.”

To Ronan’s great pleasure, a vein began to stand out on the man’s forehead. He could practically hear his blood pressure elevating. “I’m taking this to your manager, you insolent little punk.”

“Good idea, maybe you two can come up with a plan together to get the stick out of your ass,” Ronan called at his retreating form. He regretted his words almost immediately. He wasn’t protected by Kavinsky’s incompetence during regular business hours. During the day he fell under the supervision of Kavinsky Sr., a hulking Bulgarian man who was bearable until you made him leave his office. He wouldn’t be pleased.

Sure enough, half an hour later, Henry Cheng from the produce section had appeared at the counter, all flashing white teeth and impossibly tall hair. Henry, who always seemed to know your business before you knew it yourself, informed Ronan brightly that their boss wanted to see him in his office before closing.

Ronan arrived home in a sour mood after being verbally eviscerated by Kavinsky Sr. and set up at the kitchen table with a box of cereal and his laptop. He’d taken to eating cereal dry because it was nearly impossible to get through a bowl of milk uninterrupted with Chainsaw around. He remembered after half an hour of being alone in the house that today was the day that Gansey was visiting the company to which Blue had referred him. The house's silence was slightly eerie - no matter what Gansey was doing, he was usually generating some kind of noise. Ronan allowed himself to imagine all the silence he would live through if Gansey actually began working. He wasn't sure if he liked the prospect.

An hour later, Gansey trudged into the house looking pale and pinched and haggard. He didn’t say anything as he entered the house, just hit the button on the hot water kettle and slumped against the kitchen counter. Immediately Ronan forgot his annoyance with work. He had seen Gansey in this state before only a handful of times. Once was when Glendower, the big tabby cat they had owned before Chainsaw, died. The other times were when he returned from spending the weekend at his parents’ house.

It took three cups of mint tea, but Gansey regained a bit of color and began telling Ronan about his day.

“I asked three different people what the company did, and I got three responses that neither resembled each other nor provided a satisfactory answer to my question,” Gansey said. “They don’t _make_ anything. What do they do?”

“Does AskDick.com make anything?” Ronan asked. Gansey glared at him sharply.

“Everyone was...vying for favor...” he said mournfully, rubbing his temples. “It was like reliving the seminar I took senior year in which three of my five classmates were sleeping with our professor. It was exhausting.”

Ronan listened to him and nodded and made more hot water. To tell the truth, he could have seen this coming. Gansey might spend some days creating and destroying and rebuilding furiously, but there were also days he spent entirely in the bathtub, only leaving once darkness fell to lie in the backyard and look at the stars. Ronan doubted that a traditional career path would ever be in the cards for him.

After another ten minutes or so of corporate angst, Ronan cut in. “Can’t you just tell Blue that you don’t want the job?”

“If I tell her that, she’ll think I’m a deadbeat,” Gansey said dismally. He looked even more crestfallen now than he had when he walked in.

Ronan sighed. “Gansey,” he said. “If she breaks up with you over something like this, did you want to date her in the first place?”

“She’s so...efficient,” Gansey murmured. “Breaking up with me would be the easiest thing on her to do list for the day.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. Gansey was as good as unreachable. His misery was annoying Ronan, though. “Movie? You can pick it.”

Gansey looked up at Ronan balefully. “Labyrinth?” There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Ronan groaned. “Okay. You cannot sing along, though.”

Gansey gave him the big smile reserved, apparently, for being told he could watch shitty eighties children’s movies.

They were halfway through the movie, with Ronan mourning the fact that Gansey would be whistling _Magic Dance_ for the next week, when his phone buzzed. He fished it out of the crumb filled chasm between the couch cushions.

“Oh, fuck.” Gansey snatched his phone as Ronan let his head fall back on the couch in defeat. His mouth curled into a cruel grin when he read the message flashing across the screen. 

Adam Parrish 8:34 PM  
 _so…I know this might be a bit soon, but my parents are having me over for dinner next week, and if you’re okay with it I’d love to bring you along._

“What are you gonna do?” he asked gleefully. Ronan stayed silent. He had already made up his mind, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. 

“Ronan Lynch, meeting the parents,” Gansey said after Ronan’s silence had answered his question. He grinned devilishly. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MEAT MAN might be the most self indulgent idiotic "joke" i've ever let see the light of day


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this is the most cliche thing...what have I become

The Parrish house rivaled the most glorious Sim mansions Ronan had constructed. It wasn’t as though Ronan hadn’t had any idea that Adam was wealthy before - he drove a car worth more money than Ronan had made in his entire life, and he spoke about the work his parents did in a vague, careful way that assured it was very important. But as they pulled up to the house, which loomed above a carefully manicured lawn, Ronan felt discomfited at the prospect of himself sitting down to dinner inside. He wasn’t worried about meeting Adam’s parents - he knew his manners, even if he declined to use them most of the time. The feeling was not so much nervousness as the prickling feeling that he did not belong. He was wearing his only dress shirt and his neck had already begun to itch under the collar.

He realized he had been staring at the same place on the dashboard for several minutes when Adam waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hey,” he said. “You good?” His other hand was on the door, poised to open it.

“Don’t worry, Parrish. They’re gonna eat me up for breakfast,” Ronan said easily.

His smile was relaxed but Ronan thought he could see a certain tightness around his eyes. He reached over to clap a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, okay?”

Adam exhaled, shook his head. “I know. I’m being silly.”

They left the car and the sounds of their doors closing rang through the silence of the orderly neighborhood. Adam opened the front door without knocking, and called a greeting. 

Shortly a thin woman with obviously dyed hair appeared in the foyer. Her smile was large and thin lipped. Ronan couldn’t tell if it wasn’t meeting her eyes because she was uncomfortable or because she had too much Botox. “Adam,” she said. 

“Mom, this is Ronan,” Adam said. His voice sounded neater than normal. “Ronan, this is my mother Denise.” Ronan gave a close lipped smile because he had been told that grinning made him look like Fenrir Greyback, and shook her hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, fingering the silver brooch on her tasteful blouse. “Adam, your father is just carving the roast. Robert!” she called. Out of the corner of his eye Ronan saw Adam’s posture shift as his father came into the front hallway.

Ronan’s eyes widened and his heart jumped dreadfully in his chest. He willed himself not to recognize the face in front of him, but there was no denying it. The solemn mouth and set jaw, washed of color. The eyes, which Ronan could see now were a duller copy of Adam’s. He was looking at the disgruntled MEAT MAN customer. Adam’s dad was MEAT MAN. No - Ronan was MEAT MAN and Robert Parrish was an intruder in his MEAT KINGDOM. Ronan cursed at himself internally, shoved his mind clean of useless thoughts, and searingly thought a short prayer that he would not be recognized. He looked a lot different in his work uniform, right? Something was clouding Mr. Parrish’s expression, though, and Ronan thought he could see the exact moment when things clicked together for him.

“This is Adam’s,” she hesitated almost imperceptibly, “friend. Ronan,” Denise said brightly.

Ronan swallowed as Mr. Parrish’s mouth drew into a sneer that was deadly in its subtlety. “Actually, I believe we’ve met,” he said. His voice was even drier than Ronan remembered.

Adam looked back and forth between them, bemused. Ronan’s expression must have been deathly enough to stop him from inquiring further. His mother seemed to notice something was off, too. “Robert, come and help me bring out the food. Adam, could you show your guest to the dining room?”

“What the hell was that?” Adam asked as he lead Ronan to the dining room.

Ronan licked his lips, his mouth gone suddenly dry. “MEAT MAN,” he croaked. Adam looked close to panic, so he elucidated. “Your dad tried to buy meat from me a few days ago. I was...kind of a dick to him. But he was being a dick too. Fuck.”

Adam was on the verge of forming a dozen more questions, but his parents returned just then bearing vessels of food. Denise’s icy expression told him that she had just been regaled with the tale of Ronan’s abysmal conduct at the meat counter. He tried not to cringe outwardly.

They sat down to dinner in silence. For a few minutes Adam’s parents asked him about the projects he was working on and how his night class was going. It was clear that both of them were deliberately avoiding addressing Ronan. 

Finally, Adam’s mother turned to face him, lips slightly pursed. “So, Ronan, what do you study?” Her tone was colored nastily with false expectation. Clearly she had already determined that Ronan did not study anything, but she had asked the question anyway.

Ronan raised his eyebrows at the calculated question. His already limited capacity for polite conversation was sorely tested by any perceived slight. “I’m finished with my education, actually. I work at the meat counter at Pak N Save. It’s a real up and coming field right now.” Only a bit of acid had made its way into his tone, but it was enough.

Adam coughed. A few moments of silence, punctuated only by the scrape of silverware, and then Robert Parrish opened his mouth. “Well, I suppose it can’t be easy finding employment with...” He trailed off, but his eyes were fixed meaningfully on the tattoos that curled just above Ronan’s collar. 

Ronan laughed, short and humorless. “Yeah, especially when everything’s run by stuffy old bastards like you.” He had gone too far, and he knew it, but he was having a savage kind of fun now. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, smiling lazily as though the conversation hadn’t just derailed catastrophically.

Mr. Parrish’s face was tight and the vein on his forehead stood out again. Ronan stared at him, daring, but when he spoke again it was not addressed to him. “This is so goddamn typical, Adam.”

Surprised, Ronan glanced over to Adam. He had almost forgotten he was there. Adam didn’t react. His hands were loose fists, motionless in his lap.

“It was one thing for us to try to accept your lifestyle choice,” his father said, pronouncing _lifestyle choice_ as though it were a terminal illness. “And then you bring this into our house?”

Anger, impossibly hot, shot through Ronan, both on Adam’s behalf and his own. He stared at Adam, waiting for him to reply, but Adam kept staring at his plate, face unreadable.

His father sneered. “Nothing to say for yourself? I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“It’s not his fault,” Ronan said, eyes narrowed. 

“Ronan,” Adam said quietly, voice hoarse.

“What?” he snapped. “If you aren’t going to say anything to him, I will.”

Adam’s mother threw her fork down on her plate. The clatter was discordant against the silent tension of the room. 

“Fuck this,” Ronan snarled, throwing himself off of the chair. It wobbled precariously as he stormed out of the dining room, down the hallway. “Thanks for dinner!” he called sarcastically from the foyer before he swept out.

His approximation of how to get home was vague at best, but he was determined to walk there anyway. He could have called Gansey to pick him up, but the last thing he wanted to do was answer his questions. He felt a kinship with the cool silent evening that grew as he left the well lit residential street behind. The further he walked, the more the heat coursing through his body ebbed away, and he was left with a cold pit where his stomach had been. He had managed to fuck the situation up before it had even occurred, and had proceeded to make matters ten times worse in the way that only he could.

Ten minutes later headlights appeared behind him and slowed. Ronan whipped around, ready to rip into whoever wanted to start something. He was confronted by Adam’s Lexus.

The tinted window rolled down. “Will you let me drive you home?” Adam’s voice was even.

Ronan scrubbed the heels of his hands over his face. Now shame consumed him, made worse by how composed Adam seemed. Cool air whipped at him and he shivered. Adam didn’t look like he was going to drive away anytime soon, so he got into the car.

Adam drove for several minutes in silence. The houses blurring by through the windows slowly became shittier as they approached Ronan's neighborhood. The atmosphere inside the car was stifling. Ronan picked moodily at his stupid collared shirt.

“Why did you do that? Was it really worth it?” Adam finally asked flatly when they pulled up outside Ronan’s house.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “I know I wasn’t being polite, but he was out of line too.”

Adam sighed, hands still curled around the steering wheel. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s a lot easier if you just ignore him, though.”

Ronan stared incredulously at Adam. “Is that what you usually do? Ignore him? He was treating you like shit, Adam. You’re an adult too, you don’t have to _ignore him_.”

“God damn it,” Adam said, frustrated. It was the most emotion his voice had held that evening. “It is not that simple.”

“Seems pretty simple to me.” The hot, blind rage was returning and he couldn’t stop it.

“Jesus, Ronan!” Adam’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “Stop acting like you know everything.”

Ronan hissed a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, because I don’t know shit, right? No degree, no scholarship, no goddamn Lexus. I’ll just fuck right off with my hopeless ignorance.”

Adam exhaled a long breath. “That is not what I meant.”

Below his rage Ronan knew this, but he was too angry for the conversation to go anywhere. “Thanks for the ride,” he spat, and stormed out of the car. He slammed the car door, he slammed the front door, and he slammed his bedroom door in Gansey’s querulous face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter coming up next, it may take me a while to post it since i'm still thinking about how exactly i want this to end. also i'm working on some other new exciting things :0


	7. Chapter 7

Ronan knew that he was being childish. He was also, however, doggedly ignoring his childishness. It had been a week since the incident at Adam’s parents’ house. He had ignored the text Adam sent him the next day, hadn’t even read the slightly longer one on the third day, and pretended not to hear the phone call on the fifth day. On one hand he still felt self-righteously offended over Adam’s refusal to stand up for himself. On the other more responsible hand he felt like an asshole for blowing up and storming out like he had, and then proceeding to blow up and storm out on Adam when he’d been given a chance to patch things up.

Either way, he reasoned, the solution to his problems was to stop talking to Adam. The past week had been filled with mental restraint and extra deli shifts. Blue had been over at their house nearly every day, and though Ronan was begrudgingly growing to enjoy her quick wit and derision toward Gansey’s more useless ideas, the cloying physical affection the pair of them shared made him want to vomit on the best of days and drink bleach on the worst. To make matters worse Gansey seemed to think he knew more about the Adam situation than Ronan did, so he made maddeningly tentative suggestions several times a day. Work was as menial and boring as ever, but at least it offered a respite.

From a perspective of self-flagellation, it was befitting that he had to keep returning to the place where he’d spent so much time slowly processing his stronger emotions. The memory of all the time he had spent thinking about Adam hung around the deli like the odor of rot. Lately he’d been taking even more pleasure than usual in the temporary outlet for frustration that cleaving and tenderizing offered.

Tonight he was performing the supremely satisfying task of hacking apart pig legs. He wasn’t allowed to have anything hanging from a meat hook in the view of customers and it was harder to separate the kneecap when it was flat on the chopping block, but he had to stay up front when he was the only one working. The store was closing in half an hour and he hadn’t seen another person since Kavinsky had strolled by in his douchebag street clothes, on his way to clock in. Ronan was glad he would be off by the time the night shift began, because he had been itching to fight something and Kavinsky was perhaps the most fightable person he knew.

Someone rang the bell on the counter and Ronan winced, not wanting to deal with a customer. He wiped his hands on his apron, set down his cleaver, and looked up to see Adam Parrish leaning on the counter.

He looked better than any human had a right to under the terrible fluorescent lighting. He peered at Ronan. “Hey.” His face was unreadable, but his hands looked cautious as they came to rest on the glass case.

Ronan’s mouth had gone very dry. “Uh…what…what are you doing here.”

“You work in a grocery store,” Adam said evenly. “It’s public.”

Ronan scowled, picked up his cleaver, and swung it at the pile of pig knuckles sitting on the countertop.

Adam raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Silence hung thick in the air until Ronan finally broke it. “What do you want?” He tried to make his tone acidic but he sounded bitter to his own ears.

Adam exhaled. “Can we talk?”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. “About what? Don’t get the glass dirty.”

Adam slowly withdrew his hands from the top of the case. “I meant, I would like to talk to you,” he said carefully. He looked tired, Ronan realized.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m done in half an hour. We can talk, or whatever.”

*

They did not talk when Ronan got done with work. Adam’s Lexus was idling in the supermarket parking lot. He got in and they barely exchanged greetings before driving to Adam’s apartment, both feeling the urgency on one another.

Ronan liked Adam’s apartment a lot better than his parents’ house. They both contained a lot of very expensive things, but while his parents’ house was designed for appearances Adam’s apartment was designed for comfort. Ronan had been there a couple of times, but only in passing. The space felt open and clear in the way that Ronan’s house felt close and narrow. He liked both places, but it felt right to be with Adam somewhere he had made for himself. Ronan swept his eyes over the features of the big room - plates stacked neatly in glass front cabinets, well worn books on a low coffee table between stout armchairs, Adam’s enormous bed.

Being at Adam’s place, which contained no roommates, meant that Ronan made quite a bit of noise when they started having sex less than five minutes after they got through the door. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the fact that Adam was practically silent, limiting himself to cursing below his breath and moaning lowly once in a while. Ronan had always been vocally demonstrative during sex but he was starting to embarrass himself. When Adam flipped them over and entreated Ronan to start riding him things got especially bad.

“I’m sorry - ah - that I’m so loud - ah, fucking Christ,” he panted. Adam, who had one hand on Ronan’s hip and the other folded behind his head, looked absolutely sinful. His eyes were hooded and his lips parted as he drank in the sight of Ronan working himself up and down.

“It’s really hot,” he said thickly, and this made Ronan blush. “It’s also really hot that you’re getting red over me saying that while you’re in the middle of fucking yourself on my cock,” he went on after a minute.

Ronan had to pause, hands splaying on Adam’s chest. “If you keep talking like that I’m going to come right now,” he muttered, trying to catch his breath.

“You like that?” Adam asked, amusement edging into his tone. His hand found Ronan’s cock. “You like being told how dirty you look?”

Ronan did like that, a lot, and when he came a few moments later his nails left crescent shaped indentations in Adam’s chest. He traced over them while they stood in Adam’s obscenely large shower afterwards. Still, they didn’t talk.

Ronan got dressed silently and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his white apron balled up in the crook of one elbow. He stood with his feet pointed at the door, markedly not looking at Adam while he got dressed.

Adam sighed after he pulled his shirt over his head. “I guess you want to go home now,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance.

Ronan suppressed an eye roll with some difficulty. “Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Adam muttered as he retrieved his keys.

“Don’t be pissy,” Ronan shot back. Adam stared at him for a few seconds. Ronan was familiar with the look. It said, _How the hell did I end up sleeping with such an asshole?_

They drove in silence through the dark streets for five minutes, and then Adam finally spoke. “I’m not really interested in a...weird fuck buddy situation,” he started, eyes focused on the road ahead. Apparently he had learned from past experience not to try to have discussions with Ronan in stationary cars, since he could escape easily from them.

Ronan assessed possible exit routes. They were moving at about thirty five miles, and he had never jumped out of anything going faster than twenty. Probably not an option.

“But I want to try to work things out,” Adam said, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. 

Ronan’s eyes skated over to him, bemused. “You what?”

They had come to a red stoplight and Adam faced him. His eyes were sharp and reflective. “Work things out,” he repeated. “Are you familiar with the term? Or do you just yell insults at people and hope for the best?”

The tips of Ronan’s ears were turning red. “Don’t really see how that can happen,” he muttered stubbornly. “I fucked things up pretty badly. If this is your way of rubbing it in my face, good job. You win.”

Adam scrubbed an agitated hand through his hair. “ _God,_ Ronan,” he said. The light turned green and he waited for a moment before accelerating as if he were trying to gather himself before beginning again. “Yes, you fucked up, but I did too. I misread things and put you in an awful situation. Can you just be genuine with me? For a minute? I think you owe me at least some explanation.”

Ronan’s natural reaction to Adam’s calm logic was to gnash his teeth or stick his tongue out, but the guilt he felt over ignoring his attempts at communication had been simmering uncomfortably in the back of his mind the entire evening. He could hardly believe that Adam was still giving him second chances, so he forced himself to compose an apology. “Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry about making a scene with your parents. And not answering your texts. I was…I don’t know. Being shitty.”

“I don’t know if shitty’s the right word,” Adam said softly, eyebrows furrowed as he worried at the steering wheel. He glanced at Ronan. “You seem like you’re scared. Like you’re protecting yourself. I’m not…out to get you, or something.”

Ronan scowled. If anyone else in the world had said it, he would’ve bared his teeth, but he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere with Adam. “I don’t get why you would want to be with me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Obviously I don’t really fit in with you.”

Adam sighed. “Did you ever consider that’s the reason I want to get with you?”

Ronan stopped short, because no, he had not.

“One of the reasons,” Adam amended. “You’re also hot shit. And you’re funny, and cool. And I think you’re nicer than you like to pretend you are.” He sounded irritated.

Ronan, who was not very good at processing his feelings regularly, was experiencing the emotional equivalent of a ten car pileup. “Well,” he said.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Usually when you get a compliment you say thank you, or you compliment the person back.”

Ronan swallowed, grasping for a few seconds. “…You’re a good driver.”

Adam huffed a laugh. “Thanks, man. Thanks, _bro._ ”

“Okay, fine,” Ronan said raggedly. “You’re fucking incredible in bed. Clearly. I like your face. I want to shake hands with whoever tailored your pants. You say what you mean without any horseshit. You’re nice to Gansey. You don’t hate me even though I fucked up royally with your parents. And you have really nice hands.” He paused for a minute. “Is that good enough?”

He glanced over at Adam, who was smiling slyly. “Yeah…yeah, that was pretty good.” He examined his hands for a minute. “Nice hands?”

“Yes,” Ronan snarled.

“Thanks,” Adam said, sounding like he was savoring the word.

Ronan grunted.

“Hey,” Adam said, “Can we do it sometime while you’re wearing your butcher’s apron? I could make a ton of jokes about pounding meat.”

Ronan considered for a moment. “Yeah, if we can do it in the back seat of your car sometime.”

Adam winced and glanced backwards. “The custom interior…”

Ronan grinned sharply. “Fluids come off leather easy. Trust me.”

Adam tipped his head back on the headrest, exhaling a laugh. The tension in the set of his shoulders and jaw was ebbing away, and his elusive dimple had appeared. Ronan remembered the drive they’d gone on together. He matched the easy grin Adam wore now with the uncomplicated joy he’d shown Ronan on that day.

“Hey,” Ronan said. “You look really happy right now.”

The easy smile faded from Adam’s face as he regarded Ronan. “I guess,” he said.

Ronan frowned, trying to put his thoughts into the right words. “I think… I think it might help if you did that more. Not be happy all the time. I mean if you show me how you feel, it helps me. I’m not really…good at understanding that kinda shit.”

He watched as the smile returned slowly to Adam’s face. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can try to do that. Thanks for letting me know.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then, before he could think too much about it, Ronan blurted out “Can I take you out for dinner Friday night? I owe you one.”

“I’ll allow it,” Adam said, smirking. They were parked outside Ronan’s house now. “Seven o’clock?”

Ronan nodded. Adam reached out to touch Ronan’s jaw and they brushed lips across the console. Ronan’s breath died in his throat, even though it had to be the hundredth time they’d kissed. Before he opened the door, his hand darted to Adam’s and brought it to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles. Then he grinned cheekily and waved at Adam’s surprised face as he climbed out and walked inside.

 

*

Inside the house, Blue and Gansey were sitting together on the couch, tilted towards each other. Noah was sitting on the floor with his head leaning against their knees. His hair was rumpled like it had been played with recently. Ronan had texted Gansey not to come pick him up at work, so he knew that he had probably figured out where Ronan had been.

“You didn’t give your customary sound of disgust when you came in,” Blue noted after Ronan had changed and installed himself next to her. “What’s happening in Ronan land?”

“Nothing,” he said gruffly, but he could feel them exchanging a look.

“You smell like a happy ending,” Noah said.

Ronan flicked the back of his head. “And you smell like weed, but what else is new?”

“What’s new,” Gansey said, “is that lovely Blue got a promotion at her job today. What a fabulous creature she is.”

Ronan gagged and Blue groaned. “It sounds silly when you say it like that,” she said, swatting Gansey in the side. 

“It’s true,” Gansey said, grinning. His hands flew to her ribs and began to tickle mercilessly, making her shriek. 

“No tickling!” Noah wailed. “I don’t want to get kicked!” Gansey reached down and attacked his shoulders, making him yelp. At the same time Blue surged across the couch to tickle Ronan, who bellowed and tried to elbow her away. She was tenacious, though, and kept it up until he resorted to lifting her bodily off the couch and setting her on the floor next to Noah. By then, though, Gansey had turned his attention to Ronan’s stomach, making him writhe helplessly. 

Eventually they all tired and lay there around the couch, panting. “You’re all fucking deviants,” Ronan said, but he was grinning harder than he had in a while. 

Gansey noticed this. His face was alight with the joy he reflected when the people he cared about were happy. “But you love us,” he said.

Ronan rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. “You’re tolerable,” he acquiesced. “But I can’t believe you smoked without me.”

After they’d passed a hastily rolled joint in the backyard, they settled in for a movie. Noah leaned his head back between Ronan’s knees and let him play with his hair, and Gansey rested a head on his shoulder while Blue laid her head in Gansey’s lap. Even in his completely relaxed state, Ronan could feel thoughts that he’d struggled not to think for a long time blossoming tentatively. 

Slowly, carefully, he could feel himself begin to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vomits everywhere* what a cheesefest...but omg it's all done! wow! thanks for sticking with this till the end, i hope it provided you with a bit of joy. feel free to let me know what you thought!


End file.
